


Academy Girl Mildred

by Pastel Comma (Regina_Hark)



Series: Academy, Board and Tentacles [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternative Universe- Fantasy, Big Beautiful Woman, Breast Expansion, Breast Fucking, Breeding, Consensual Sex, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gangbang, Light Bondage, Milking, Multi, Oviposition, PWP, Public Sex, Rough Sex, Sex Pollen, Threesome - F/M/M, Train Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 17:45:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6998341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regina_Hark/pseuds/Pastel%20Comma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mildred Albright, a student-teacher with naughty after-school activities in smuggling and larceny, finds herself trapped in a tramcar of horny men as a typical run goes into overtime. Luckily, the package she's carrying makes sure she has enough milk to parch everyone's thirst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Academy Girl Mildred

**Author's Note:**

> So a bit more world-building to go along with the porn. 
> 
> Yay, I hit my Saturday deadline. Whoo!

Mildred hadn't expected that her life of teaching young minds and, well, living on the straight and narrow would lead up to this. Her, a student-teacher for an ages-old academy, forced into smuggling contraband to make ends meet. Not only was it illegal and immoral to defy the trade agreements with the aligned Centralrian governments, she was carrying witchcraft contraband. The stuff made and sold by genuine witches.

Aulra, spare her!

Mildred couldn't believe it when she was told and she could hardly believe it now.

Smuggling things like that, witch-made or not, was worth a life-time sentence to a dark lab owned by the Royal Research and Remittance Committee. A fine name for an organization that killed more people than they saved. But what sat more firmly in Mildred's mind was her students. What would they think of her? She'd taken care to keep her trips discrete and paid any wagging mouths silent but there was always a chance-

Oh, she couldn't think of that now! Focus on the job. Be the professional smuggler.

Fumbling her way onto the tramcar, Mildred held back her whimper. She never much liked them, tramcars or tramlines. Everyone she knew had a complaint or two about them. The foul stench. The prismatic smokestacks that fogged up the countryside. And of course, the small space. Aulra, was the small space terrible. Even if she managed to get on first, the car empty, she'd find an elbow in her face or a butt on her lap by the second stop.

Considering how a tramcar was built, concepts like personal space and comfort went to the wayside. A tramcar had about six vertical benches, rickety and poorly-made, melded to the iron walls. Not to mention, they were all painted the most garish and coppery of colors. A simple pleasant green would come out looking like a horrid, rancid, vomit-green on top of a tramcar. Don't get Mildred started on their red models. She's glad they all went to the scrap yard after the scandal they made last year.

Tramcars weren't made to outdo the more favorable ways of getting around like trains and trolleys.

They were for cargo. Promoted as quicker, reliable, and more honest delivery than what a slow train plagued by bandits all around the clock could provide. Then they decided to gouge the poor. Letting the whole world know exactly how Central cared about its imported working class. They charged practically a whole working salary just to be allowed on their dinky machines for a month.

Hardly on board, the tramcar decided to close its doors then and there.

Mildred swiftly hitched her skirt up and, for no offense, elbowed the people behind her out to secure her spot. Whether Mildred wanted to or not, she learned the art of riding on a tramline. Her work, smuggling as it were, required it. And to ride a tramcar meant she had to forget her manners. One was not polite on them. If you were, you'd be left at the train stop, gobsmacked and bitter. One was not kind to passengers. If you caught the need to be nice, you'd be forced off by the surge of people getting on and off.

And for Mildred, giving up her manners was still quite the battle after all these months.

Slamming shut, the doors managed to catch some fabric by the men and women still standing at the tram stop. Tourists they had to have been. They made a scene, trying to pull out their skirts and shirts from the tram's metal doors.

Pressed safely on the other side, Mildred watched in dismay as the tourists didn't put one and one together. Anyone from the capital city or from Central wouldn't have come anywhere near a tramline. And the islanders and foreigners who regularly used the tramlines would have had enough sense not to bring their clothing close.

There was something in the fuel that went into running a tramline. It made one’s clothing cling to the outside of its doors and walls. If you didn’t strip of your own will, you’d be stripped right down to your unmentionables.

The tramcar's bell rung and it was off, thundering down the hillside like a unhinged beast. With it came the chorus of torn clothing and, of course, the shrieks. For the sake of their modesty, Mildred averted her eyes. The men in the car roared in laughter. And it was just men behind her. Around this time of the day, night falling and streetlights being lit, only miners and metalworkers used the tram.

Had she gotten on an hour earlier, she would have been sharing tramcars with the female workers but that was something she could mull over later. The lights in the tramcar came on, blinking and flickering annoyingly as Mildred was forced to fight the bright sting they gave. Either they were dim and useless, or bright and oh so painful.

Mildred rubbed her eyes and turned from the doors, ready to start moving further in. The men still chuckled and guffawed and she couldn’t help but snort at their amusement. The tramcar caught everybody once. They honestly didn’t have the right to laugh.

Dark-skinned or light, human or not, the men always had similar builds. Big. Tall. Broad-shoulders. Smoldering dark eyes like they were all actually bats seeing sunlight for the first time. An excessive amount of chest hair. Seriously. The sort that they must had wrestled off a bear or two to earn.

Some had the decency to wear shirts. Usually unbuttoned but the thought counted. Most didn't, however. Instead, they let their sweaty and glistening and toned man-breasts just hang out there.

Women had to cover their tits. Why didn't they?

Mildred couldn't stop taking peeks and lingering glances. It was there! In her face! Showing off brazenly and occasionally grinding against her as she rushed her way through. Their chests weren't as soft as a girl's. No, they were soft in a different way, meaty and oddly squeezable. Fresh sweat lines making a map of their awesome pecs and tight stomachs. Even the more huskier men caught her eyes, their beefy shape and form no way diminished by the beer bellies they carried.

Mildred, despite her grand and awkward height, was nothing but marshmallow goo in comparison.

Some people might say Mildred had a crush on mining men. And Mildred would not correct them.

Sculpted by their hard labor, the miners were all sharp lines and thick calloused skin. Men of rugged rock, she liked to think of them. The soot and ash from the mines clung to their skin, making them all a bit grittier and dirtier than you'd expect off an average man. The desire to lick them clean came and went with every other thought. But Mildred would never act on it. She had a job to do. There would be no funny business in transit. But Mildred's mind still wandered, filled with filthy five-second fantasies.

She couldn't resist wrinkling her nose, intoxicated by the smells filling up their little tramcar.

The miners often carried an erotic stench back with them. A hint of male musk along with that ash-dirt and burning aroma that clung to their slacks and skin. Like a well-trained hound presented with a feast, her mouth began to fill with saliva. A involuntary action that led to loud lewd swallowing. As if she was signaling, “if you all asked, I will get down on my knees and wash your dirty cocks!”

As Mildred careened through for the back of the tramcar, using her body as a crowbar, she tried to turn off her senses. What she was doing here would have been seen as inappropriate anywhere else. Catching a miner by surprise with her swift jabs might make them jerk out of the way.

But sometimes, almost all of the time, she had to go around.

Mildred's body ended up pressing into those walls of hot muscular flesh. Her flat breasts rubbing against their stiff manly ones. Each encounter was brisk and professional. Mildred tried not meet anyone's eyes as she passed through. The heat of a miner's skin rightly roasting her cheeks into red.

Her eager fat nipples poked through her white high-collar blouse, greeting each man with more attention than she would have liked. And her rear couldn't help but to brush and hover by groins and laps. Spreading a miner's powerful legs by just a light tap of her large backside.

These miners didn't have the common decency to look the other way on her actions. None of them outright touched her. Thank spirits. But she felt their meaty manhoods respond. Brush her right back as if asking her to her ass down then and there. The swell of their tips pushing through their pants, that tenting cock prodding open her cresting twin ass-cheeks, was exhilarating.

But she'd only allowed herself five seconds to indulge.

To think and pretend and relish in that forbidden contact of cock and ass in such a public, public place. And then, of course, she was gone. Back to fighting her way for a better spot in the tramcar.

Mildred kept her chin up, not wanting to bare witness to what her heels were doing in her blind rush. Shoes being smashed under by her black heels. Long legs that laid right in the middle of the tramcar being kicked out of the way. Her knees jabbed and stabbed those who were standing. Her elbows pushed and plunged through every opening available. And with every inch she claimed, a small part of Mildred was screeching and pleading for mercy.

Because- Well-

All her life, Mildred always had to apologize for her size.

Everything about her was just a bit off.

Big hips but not much of an ass. Great thighs but no hourglass waist. Small shoulders but no decent sized breasts to offset them. She was pear-shaped, hipsy, which was fine, respectable in other lands but here in Central- Mildred broke things when she sat down. She tore clothing. Often she ran around with tears that split the back of anything she was wearing not custom-made.

And of course, if one compared her to the average Centralrian, she had to be a foreigner. People from Central were not kind to foreigners.

Long black hair that fell to her waist. Round face. Peachy skin. Great height.

People from Central either had skin as white as moon-dust or as black as night-ash and they wouldn't accept anyone that who was too out of line. Her pink, almost orange, skin might have let her pass their standards but her height and that dark, dark hair. No. A foreigner she was. Her birth certificate didn't count. Her parents didn't count. Her childhood of living in Central didn't count.

It didn’t matter if she was in uniform as a academy student-teacher or not.

A person from Central would take a good look at her and wonder how much they should pay to make her leave. Expecting to say sorry before she even did anything made life easier for Mildred. And well, tramlines and the work she did on them, took a real piss on that.

Mildred kept up her half-run, half-stomp until she reached the back of the tramcar.

For the sake of inner peace, she sighed. Then had a tiny jig, regardless who was in front or back of her. One tramcar down, three more to go. Her home in the Northern Continent would be waiting for her at the end. In the back, there were windows all around. Square box-cut ones made from thick glass. From her spot, she watched the sun passing through the treeline and sloping hills further on.

Night was coming. And that meant, in simple terms, she was fucked.

Mildred brought her hand to the window and tapped it with her knuckles. She could still concentrate. Her ‘cargo’ hadn’t begun influencing her libido as of yet. That was a good sign. Bridget, an ex-student of hers and her handler in the smuggling business, warned her that she had to nightfall to get to a safe house. The size-shaping rune inscribed on her stomach was only good for six hours max. But unexpected business with the Teaching Association had her stay in the capital longer than she would have liked.

She sent a missive to Bridget, asking for some help, but the girl never sent a message back.

And here came the end of the day. Ready to end her good mood and most likely, her career.

This was all of the fault of Mildred's work and greed. Thanks to her size, she could carry more than most. Not to mention, with her status as a student-teacher based in the Northern Continent, she was free to head back and forth with little suspicion.

But it came with certain drawbacks, chasing a living wage while providing an education to her charges. Smuggling was eating into her lesson planning time. Teacher-to-student conferences. Personal peer-to-peer colleague reviews. And of course, her body was getting used to carrying the latest fad in contraband-selling circles. Mimic-seeds.

Mildred shuddered once she heard it. There was no mistaking the sound, like an egg-shell cracking. The rune broke. Well, there went what little hope of her making it in time. Mildred dropped her free hand to grasp at her belly, rubbing with her thumb the round skin to where the mimic-seeds had to be. Deep in her womb and ready to cause mischief.

Mimic-seeds used to be only bought by shady alchemists and rogue scholars.

You could grind them, boil them, grow them into weapons; the whole wicked spectrum.

But lately, there's been a call for sexual aids from bored and rich Centralrians that wanted to spice up their bedroom life. And as it goes, if the Centralrians wanted something, everybody wanted it.

In seed form, these plants released magic that stimulated growth hormones and arousal. Something of a defense mechanic, this gro-magic was apparently fun to exploit. Mimic-seeds couldn't transform themselves, but they could transform whatever they were placed into.

Mildred focused on the scenery, watching as the house-dotted hills gave way to sloping plains and forest. She wasn't particular worried about exploding. Something a newcomer to smuggling would have been scared to death about. Still a naive product of the boatload of misinformation from Centralrian governments. Rumors and gossip to convince their citizens to not engage in illegal trading. Exploding. Turning into stone. Or becoming a plant monster was just a few of the funny lies that got passed around.

The size of fingertips, mimic-seed were rather small. Even if they grew to a bigger size inside of her, they would be the same as a chicken’s egg at the most. Twelve or so were implanted inside of her. A number she felt she could handle. If it was thirty-six or more, well, that was when it would be time to panic.

What Mildred was really concerned about was how the seeds would react to her body. She’d already had plenty of close calls. The seeds spurting their magic inside of her as she bolted to a safe house to be extracted. But she never got to experience the full effect for herself. All that magic was still waiting inside of her. Her womb safe-guarding it until Mildred got properly pregnant or was caught with these eggs still inside at the wrong time. Just what would it do to her?

Slowing down, the tramcar came to its last stop before heading to the ocean. The car emptied out, briefly, but filled right back up with men from the Lower Centralrian mines.

In the hustle and bustle, Mildred was shuffled around. She lost her prime spot in the back and found herself stuffed between a pair of good-looking men. One faced forward, his back towards her. The other was front-first, his chin pressing lightly between her shoulder blades.

Soundly squished with no wiggle room, Mildred couldn't help but feel their strong and rugged bodies against her own.

The man in front of her was like a brick wall.

Fine shoulders. Dark black skin with a cool undertone. Sandy-colored blond hair that hung off his head in a low, loose ponytail.

The man behind was smaller, shorter with a slender, wiry body. She saw a bit of his face as they were pushed together. Baby-faced with gray eyes. Dark blonde hair. White freckled skin. If she had to continue the metaphor, she was trapped between a brick wall and a farm fence. Both of them were centralrians, probably hailing from the lower sea cost of Central.

And, whoever they were, they weren't miners.

“Name's Seth.” the blond man behind her whispered. “Man in front of you is Conrad. I hope I'm not wrong in presuming you're Milly. Mantle got your message. We're here to help.”

Mildred blinked at the sound of that stupid nickname. Milly. What was she, a cow?

“Bri- I mean, Mantle sent you? How- How do you two know what I look like? It's against protocol-” And it was. Runners, like herself, who worked for Mantle weren't supposed to know what each other looked like. Only their handlers and these two didn't fit the look for a handler. Too easy-going. Not a magic relic or tool on them. The whole tactic was supposed to cut down on amateurs getting caught and giving up everyone in the smuggling ring for a better deal in the courts. “What's my identifying number? And who exactly are-”

“Mildred Albright. Twenty-three. Current profession: teacher. Trade: none. Guild association: none. Number of successful trades... A surprising high number of eighty-two out of eighty-seven runs. Especially if you include this run. You are good at what you do.” Conrad rattled off her personal information, his voice low and velvety. Spirits, she got goosebumps. “We know your number, HF-00230. We know your handler. We know all of this to say we got you. Mantle is watching over you.”

“Got me?” Mildred muttered. “I wasn't informed of this.”

“Neither were we before we got the notice a half-hour ago.” Seth added. His voice was bright, chirpy and full of zeal. “We're here to do the extraction.”

“In public?” she hissed. “You do know we're on a tramcar that's eighty percent glass? All it takes is one concerned citizen to report 'plant tentacles' and we're all going to end up on a table.”

“It's alright.” And somehow it was when he said it like that.

Conrad had a relaxed personality, didn't he?

Something about him gave off a calming effect that soothed Mildred’s nerves. Being stuck en-route with a pair of smuggler agents wasn't fun or part of the plan but it was better than panicking on her lonesome. Or it could be he was her type. They both were, honestly. Conrad didn’t smell of burning coal and dirt like the miners. No, he smelled of gunpowder and mira-cryst fuel. The sort of scent that you could only find off a gunner or grenadier.

People like that didn’t go to places like this. Plus, Conrad’s arms were very extremely hunky.

“The organization has that covered.” Seth replied. “There aren't any major towns on this route to the coast. Anyone who feels mouthy can either get a nice wad of look-elsewhere cash or a fist to the face.”

“This doesn't feel like the usual extraction.” Mildred said, rubbing her stomach. Something deep inside of her started tingling. Mildred ignored it. “Why is there only two of you? I don't see any magic rings, cloaks or any other sort of gem-powered item. Neither of you look magically-inclined either.”

“Our latest client asked for a special order. We're just here to make sure things get cooked right in that oven of yours.” Conrad said. “You can relax. We got you. And if you need our numbers, I'm CM-0027 and Seth's CM-0028.”

“Really then?” Mildred snorted. “Then how are we going to get the seeds out without some fancy magic or a extraction chair in a safe house?”

“Persuasion of the stimulating kind.” They said together. She could hear the smiles in their voice. Assholes. That meant sex. Public sex, apparently. “Of course, if you're not up to it, we can make different arrangements. Stop the tram and signal for an extraction team to make their way over.”

Ooh, that meant money. Lots of it. 'Different arrangements' was code for they'd get another idiot for this high stakes job.

“How much is the payout for this?” Two times. Three times? Mildred jugged zeroes in the back of her head and wondered how much did she want some updated teaching equipment. And a much needed down-payment on her cottage. And, well, a new wardrobe. It would be nice to not have to wear patchwork hand-me-down cloaks all of the damn time.

“Ten times.”

Mildred blinked, her mind going blank. Her cut would... be huge!? Aulra, she wouldn't have to smuggle for the rest of the year. Two years if her school job didn't go under like the Teaching Association was threatening to do! Shut down Helm Academy just because some guilds wanted to turn it into a fort. But who cared about that now. Ten times? She was rich!

“Ten-times?! Who'd- Why? I don't care. Yes, please!” Mildred babbled. “Yes. Yup. Let's get down to it!”

Conrad turned towards Mildred and she was even more sandwiched between bare chests, man-breasts and clothed cocks eager to rub against her. “Ooh, I think-” Her words drifted, carried away by the sensation of throbbing stiffness pressing against the back of her thighs. The curve of them just right for a manhood to slide between.

Mildred sighed, parting her lips.

She never had a man, no, men, be so interested in her without alcohol being involved first. She was always too tall, too big in the hips and lacked a spine to ask what she really wanted. Aulra knows how often Mildred always fantasized about being fucked by men as strapping and robust as these. But she could never work up the nerve to ask one of them out.

And now pure chance was intervening in.

It dangled in her face. A chance to truly enjoy herself. To be fucked and passed around without a single drop of shame. But. But Mildred wouldn't dare let herself get carried away. And what did she really wanted, she pondered. Attention? Affection? Not to be told that her partner of the night was with her despite her size. Always that. Her size being the problem. Like they were doing her the favor by sleeping with.

Soft breaths touched the nape of Mildred’s neck, making her shiver in anxious anticipation. Was she really doing this? Letting herself be fucked by men she didn't know?! In public?! In a tram car?!

Already, her panties were damp, the fabric glued to her pussy lips and slit.

Aulra, this was too good to be true!

Hands cupped her ass-cheeks, fondling them through the long black prairie skirt. The skirt's make so thin and light they might as well been touching her straight through. Fingers went as they willed, pinching and squeezing her rear. Sometimes hard, other times softly.

Her cheeks ached under their gentle groping, sensitive and hot to the touch.

As Mildred was being touched from behind, her skirt was slowly being raised. She faced a window, eyes to the passing countryside but her ass was to the rest of the train. The miners on board couldn't be blind to what they were doing. What little conversation there was had been replaced with a heavy silence. She saw their faces in the glass. Staring. Watching. Waiting. Dark gazes spellbound by her tempting rising hem.

Conrad watched her face, the dark skinned man in deep thought.

He shared a look at Seth who wiggled his eyebrows. Silent communication complete, Seth nudged her hip and Conrad moved her to an angle. From where they stood, she was now visible to most of the train. Sharp intakes of air echoed around the small space. Mildred blushed straight to her roots and the cocky bastards had the nerve to smile.

In a flourish, the back of her skirt was hoisted up. Ass blatantly bared on display, Mildred shuffled from the left and right. Trying to hide the curve of her rear and the thickness of her wide ass. There was light laughter and she felt it, the miners' eyes ogling her exposed form.

Mildred simmered in her skin, squirming.

Just because the three of them knew why they were performing in front of a live audience didn't mean the miners knew. A little squeezing and touching was expected when you knew the person and they were okay with it on a tramline. Any further than that and Mildred knew the miners would intervene to 'help' her. Some of them were familiar faces. Men who she knew would step in.

“Everyone,” she stuttered, her voice slightly off-key as she tried to resettle herself. “We are- Um. These are my-”

“Boyfriends.” Conrad intervened. “We've been dating for a while.”

“Maybe you for a while.” Seth teased, careless and light. “I've been dating her for months.”

“Well, I've been courting her for years.”

“What a shame. We've been engaged since we were born.”

Conrad laughed. “Her mother and my mother made a pact to marry their children together.”

“Okay, they are my lovers that I love very much.” Mildred shouted over them. “Very complicated history. Yes. So, today's my birthday and my two boyfriends decided to make it special and-” Her lips burned, cheeks bright as she forced out the words. “fuck me on my favorite tramline. So if you men could just ignore us, that be grand.”

“Huh,” Seth snorted. “I didn't know anything about that. Conrad, you?”

Mildred felt her stomach drop.

“Me neither.” Conrad said thoughtfully. “Milly, I thought you wanted be fucked by every man on board.” What! That was true but- “You have been complaining in bed how much you couldn't be satisfied by the same pair of cocks. What was two compared to twenty?”

Seth leaned close to her ear.

“Unless you don't want that,” he said, whispering. “Your handler Bridget has told us some stories about what you say shit-faced drunk. And when the mimic-seeds go off in you, you'll be too much to satisfy by ourselves.”

“But aren't you taking them out before that?!”

“Special order. Special circumstances.”

Mildred retreated to her thoughts, screaming on the inside. Was this really happening?

She pinched herself.

Aulra, she was awake! Holy fuck, she was awake-awake.

“I'm okay with being in a gang-bang.” Mildred stuttered, still in disbelief. “I'm okay with being in a gang-bang in a tramcar.” she repeated, mentally ascending to paradise. “I-” Mildred cleared her throat, speaking louder for the sake of the crowd. “Yes, Conrad, I did say that but could we start off slow? I don’t want to get these lovely men hopes up if I’m not up for it today.”

Conrad smiled, his teeth absolutely perfect. “That’s fine with us, sweetheart.”

The two smuggling agents left her to flounder under the weight of her announcement. Mildred clutched her clothes, feeling all sort of restless. This was sex. This was just sex, she tried to remind herself.

But this was dream sex. This was 'the cosmos have aligned and you only get once chance' sex.

The miners in the tramcar didn't make much of a ruckus about what she said. Some of the men who weren't interested moved to the front. The rest of them crowded around, elbowing and bumping each other for a better view.

Mildred pulled down the back of her skirt. The smuggling agents tugged it right back up, a show for the miners. Delirious from the stares and commotion, Mildred placed her head into Conrad's chest. Her face couldn't stop blushing. Couldn't stop smiling like a giddy fool. Conrad patted her head. Seth pinched her ass. Their attempts to comfort her were well-received.

She took a deep breath and said, “I'm ready.”

Conrad pulled her closer, unsteadying her stance. She followed along but a knee but a knee between her legs kept them open. Mildred was now bent over, her ass unashamedly mooning the miners and more. She gasped, aroused. They were showing her off to the miners, letting them see her best assets. Mildred stood wide-legged, small breasts pressed against Conrad's hard front. Her ass now pointed upwards, lofty in the air.

Seth rubbed his knuckles down her round ass-cheeks. Mildred turned her head slightly, wanting to see what he did. His fingertips danced around the start of her panties, playing with the waistband and satin blue material that held it all together. Then he hooked his finger under the waistband, peeling away her modesty tantalizingly slow.

Ass-cheeks were one thing but to have both her holes on display, one wet, the other clean, she couldn't take it. Mildred struggled in Conrad's hold. Unable to decide whether to close her legs or spread them wider. Just the thought of it was making her close to cumming. Seth held her pussy lips open and her clit throbbed, stiff and hard.

Mildred's mind swam in unadulterated lust.

Her pussy ached in neediness, her sweet juices streaming down her legs. It had to be the mimic-seeds spurring her on. Her emotions rose and crashed into each other. Thoughts came and went, a blur of words, wants and reasons. Her insides clenched, compelled by a surge deep, deep inside of her womb. It was so sudden that Mildred gasped, body trembling in need and want. She fought of Conrad’s hold and stumbled into the center of the tram car. Any cock. Anything would do if it could just get inside her and-

And then, her top, her favorite top, popped.

Mildred’s small breasts expanded in a tizzy of tit-flesh and hot milk. Her bra gave under, cupping the underside of her growing mounds and her blouse died in vain, popping buttons which ever way. Pink engorged nipples sat on top white mountains, the flesh around them tender and sore. Mildred threw off the rest of the rags she was wearing. Who gave a damn about a blouse? Why this skirt? Why these clingy things on her privates?

She needed something inside her and she needed it now.

The now big-breasted Mildred stood nude in the tramcar, soaking in the lust-driven stares in her direction. Gauging the men, she went to the one who the closest. Seth. She grabbed his jacket's collar and smashed their lips together. They kissed wet and hard, more battle than any sort of care.

Her free hand went to his pants, tugging the zipper down and freeing his imprisoned cock. Hello, you beautiful thing. He bucked into her hand, his member twitching in her brazen hold. Seth's cock was on the short side but had enough girth to make it for it. She turned and examined it, the base thick and meaty.

Would this be enough to sate her?

Mildred no longer thought.

Such things didn't matter anymore.

She acted, pouncing. They fell together, hitting the ground in a pile of limbs. She honed for his cock, tearing open the zipper with her teeth, and gulped down the length. Deep-throating in seconds, she was struck by the primal satisfaction emerging from her core. Her head bobbed up and down, lewd sounds filling the tramcar. Her saliva dribbled around her cock-filled lips, aiding her speed and gusto.

Mildred moaned, wagging her pussy in the air. She wanted more cock. She wanted it in her now. Her teeth grazed along his shaft, his cock jerking as she enveloped in her willing mouth.

“Conrad-” Seth panted, his hips uselessly bouncing up. Mildred held him down, his movements were distracting her. “Get. Over. Here.” he said, speaking to the beat of his weak thrusts. “I'm about to-” Spirits, he talked too much. Mildred dropped her hips down, shutting him up with her pussy.

Seth writhed against her, his lips and tongue now put to better use.

Mildred cooed, loving the sensation of his mouth against her clit. She would have been perfectly fine leaving her pussy there if she hadn't felt familiar hands on her ass, lifting her backside up. Mildred didn't bother look behind her, mouth still full with Seth's runny cock and cum. He cummed inside her mouth sometime ago but she wouldn't let go. The soft shaft slowly being roused back into hardness and she wanted to be there when it did. To taste and drink his creamy cum.

“Thank Aulra,” Seth said underneath her. “She's too gone.” Why was he still talking? Mildred tried to bring her pussy right back down. “The team back at Central won't be happy to know-” Blah. Blah. Who cared. Conrad wouldn't let her lower her hips. She whined, slowing her sucking of Seth's juicy cock.

“Ah, take it easy, Milly.” Conrad said, sinking his fingers into her pussy. Mildred drove right into them, panting and horny. “There's plenty of men here.” He stretched her inner walls, making her nice and ready for him. “I'm not looking forward to writing my report.” he said, more so to Seth than her. What report- His fingers drilled inside, making her hips rise and rock. Oh yes, keep doing that!

Once she was prepared to his liking, he entered her. Conrad probably meant to do it slow and probably wanted not to hurt her. Cute but unneeded.

Mildred threw her hips back and clenched, devouring his cock with her pussy. His shaft was much longer than Seth's but not as thick. Together, they complemented each other. Having their cocks in her was adequate. Conrad made a noise of surprise and tried to back out. No. There would be none of that. Her desires aligned with the ones inside of her, the mimic-seeds. To plug up every hole was great idea and they would help anyway possible.

Her essence, already smelling of sex, took on another scent.

The air grew thick with this new aroma. Lavender and spicy, this beckoning aroma went to the men that surrounded her. The effects were instantaneous. Both Seth and Conrad kept their mouths shut, their cocks throbbing away inside of her. Then they thrusted, finally understanding what they needed to do. Fill her! Breed her! The two cocks pistoned inside of Mildred, fucking both her mouth and pussy without reprieve.

The miners waited like wolves, hungrily staring at the three of them. They took out their manhoods, stroking themselves freely. Ah, the tramcar smelled so nice. Cum and sweat and musk and more! Seth came again, his whole body jerking under her. She watched him, loving how he fell apart. Mildred swallowed globs of his yummy seed, streams of white hitting the back of her throat and running down her lips. He moaned underneath her, dazed by her show of affection. She tugged his cock, trying to make more come out.

Oh, did he need a break? That was fine. There were more cocks to take his place.

Mildred allowed Seth's cock to fall out of his mouth and looked to the others.

Another man walked up, and without preamble, shoved himself right inside. Mildred squealed, moaning in appreciation. He gripped the back of her head, forcing her to move to his pace. Seemingly encouraged by one of their own, the miners came for her. They rubbed their cocks over her body, letting their cum coat her form. More. She wanted more!

Hands went for her bountiful teardrop-shaped breasts, groping and squeezing. Her thick nipples gushed, spurting out torrents of warm milk.

She couldn't-

Mildred climaxed, thrown right out of her body and into sweet elation. She shook, shuddering and twitching and spewing out more of everything. Milk. Sweet juices. That floral aroma. She cried out around the miner's cock and hugged Conrad's cock still thrusting inside of her. They cummed at the same time, Conrad and the miner.

The smugger agent stayed inside her, letting every drop rush into her womb but the miner did not. He pulled out and jizzed on her face, cum sliding down her cheeks.

Mildred snarled at him. The cum had to go in, not out.

The two men were pushed aside and she was hoisted between the poles that divide the benches. Using their belts and face masks, they tied her arms and legs to the upper bars. Mildred was presented, all her holes free for fucking. Cool lube was massaged into her asshole, lubricating her back entrance.

With that done, the miners went into her with no mercy. They came and went, fucking her together or alone. Sinking their fat cocks into her holes and spewing their seed. In no time at all, she covered in spunk and cum. Black hair nearly dyed white by the seed splattering over her.

Lowering the line of the makeshift restraints, Mildred was brought to stand on wobbling feet. Hanging over her head, her arms were still tied. She tugged the bonds that was holding her, wanting to run around and take cock freely. Then a pair of hands rested on her hips and a thick shaft was shoved into her ass.

Mildred squealed, loving the swift impaling she got from behind. The miner wasn't gentle, short and stout he was. He reamed into her, brutally plowing her ass hole. Her ring of muscles spasemed, trying squeeze around him but his speed was too much. Another hand grabbed her hair and yanked her forward. Mildred opened her mouth and the next cock went right in. They fucked her in a uncoordinated rhythm, the man from behind still rushing to his climax.

Then oddly enough, the tramcar was at a stop. An actual stop with people and houses and more.

Mildred's mind struggled to clear. She recognized some of the structures. This was Centralia, one of the biggest cities in Central. Outside the tram, people did their business. Heading to the stores and waiting for a train, the best way to get around. It didn't take long for one of them spread the alarm.

The centralrians stared at the tramcar, stared at her being fucked in both holes.

Mildred let go of the cock in her mouth and threw her hips back with force to knock the other off. This couldn't be happening. Centralia. Her parents lived here. Her friends from childhood lived here. Not to mention, her students likely would have stopped by. They could have been in the gathering crowd, pointing and gesturing to her cum-sticky form.

Shame and guilt and arousal rolled over her in waves, each eating the brief awareness she gained. Her mind went away. Where was the next cock! Mildred resisted the binds around her arms. With great effort, she pulled it along and went to the window. More men. More cocks. She pressed herself against the glass, staining it with shades of creamy white. Mildred spread her legs, a clear invitation.

The miners in the tramcar didn't like that. They piled against her, lifting Mildred up and showing her cum-filled holes. Hands on her breasts and cocks fighting to be the first in, she was besieged by their lust. One got in and he pistioned inside her for the bewildered crowd, his shaft fucking her in long, even strokes. The cum already inside spilled out, flecking onto the glass. The losers held her by knees and ankles, allowing the centralians below not to miss a single moment.

Mildred went up and down, riding the cock in her pussy. Her sweet juices ran, clear rivets glistening her thighs and ass-cheeks. Two men attended to her breasts, groping and foundling her fat flushed mounds. They licked and sucked, massaging her bobbing titties. Mildred panted, her ankles kicking and twitching with every thrust. The man inside her didn't last long. He cummed, shooting his delicious load.

The miner was pulled from her and she was brought to stand in the middle of the tramcar. A belt went around her bulging breasts and it became another tight space to fuck. Using her nipples as holds, they thrusted their cocks through her pillowly flesh. Two or three in the time, they shared her mounds. There wasn't even a shaft in her pussy now, the miners too distracted by cumming in a spot they hadn't before. Mildred whined and pouted, wanting something inside her now.

But her complaints soon dissolved into moans.

Mildred's breasts, slick and wet with cum and dewy perspiration, were much more sensitive than before. As their cocks drove in and out, her valleys of white flesh sent pleasure straight to her core. Feet curling, she came. Mildred screamed, leaving this world for the next one after. Her breasts, brimming with milk, burst. Her tender nipples released, a flood of milk washing over the men still thrusting near them. They climaxed or they didn't. The cum ran down her form, wasted on the ground. Mildred hadn't been paying attention as men remembered that her milk was something to drink.

They mobbed her, squeezing and squishing her breasts.

Her nipples were passed around, stiff angry nubs pelted with tongues and fingers. As the group in front bothered with her titties, she felt a stray tongue lick her clit. Mildred spread her legs, trying to tempt it inside. The mouth pushed up against her pussy folds, eagerly eating her out. Yes! Oh yes! It dove inside, making her hips twitch and shake.

The crowd outside watched with no remorse. Centralia was a show city, full of attractions and excitement. Maybe the centralians thought the tramcar was a performance and decided not to run off and report their asses to the Royal Army or the Contraband Committee.

Even a strange group of them, dressed in white coats and medical-looking bags, came up to the tramcar door. Must have been desperate to have her. They knocked and banged, trying to open the metal doors. “Seth,” they might have said. “Conrad,” might have been another. They realized couldn't jam the doors open. Tramcars, for all their faults, were bandit-proof. No hijacking of any kind. This was an unregistered stop. This tramcar wasn't supposed to stop anywhere near Centralia in the first place.

And what did they need doctors for? Everyone was fine. Happily fucking her until they dropped.

Mildred basked in their stares, lewdly sucking as if a cock was in her mouth for her captive audience.

If only they were on board, they could have some of her as well.

The crowd called out, shouting cat-calls and filthy praise. Yes! Praise her. Breed her. Her womb wasn't satisfied. She wanted more. The mimic-seeds wanted more. The centralians touched themselves for her. Groping their chests and privates.

Mildred smirked her approval but unfortunately the tramcar decided then to leave.

Goodbye Centralia. Goodbye strange doctors who said their sting was a bust.

Sting?

Mildred pushed the odd words in her mind and went back to being fucked.

Every man had his turn with her, happily having their sloppy seconds and thirds. All her holes stuffed silly with seed, they fucked cum more out than they poured in.

Mildred cried and moaned, a vixen of sex than woman now. Sucked and fucked and filled and claimed.

Towards the end, only Conrad and Seth were still on their feet. Mindlessly thrusting into her. She purred at their diligence, rewarding them with kisses and caresses. The wild fucking that had gone on earlier ebbed away into almost intimate sex. She was sandwiched once more between these men. One strapping, the other slim. Seth filled her in the front, Conrad in the back.

Her breasts drizzled weakly between their light thrusts, spilling onto their interlocked form.

Conrad had one hand on her breast and squeezed, draining her soundly. Seth was on her breast, sucking the fluid out the other.

The three of them fucking in unison, they fit together as if they made for each other. Good men, the smuggling agents were. They didn't waste cum by shooting it over her. Every drop went where it needed to go, satisfying Mildred's need to be full. She didn't know why but the need, the want in her was nearly gone. Mildred finally felt sated. There was no need for more and more. She looked at them with feverish intent, trying to burn their faces into her minds. This was their first coupling. They were her lovers. Her mates.

Yes, it was time. Yes, she was ready to give her eggs up.

Mildred's belly became swollen, pudgy, as her womb surged once more. Hips spread wide, her inner walls clenched and squeezed. The two men cummed for the last time and pulled out. They didn't go far, rubbing their hands over her pregnant belly. Mildred preened. Her mates were here. Her mates would love her brood.

Something was coming out.

Her body arched and she gave birth. Each seed, now returned to their proper size of eggs, slipped out of her well-fucked pussy. They rubbed and grinded and fought, trying to keep themselves within. Mildred climaxed again and again, breathless and howling for relief, for more, for enough.

Mildred panted, trying to keep her eyes opened. She stared at them. Her mimic-seeds now glossy and whitened by cum. They made a pile underneath her, now safely brought into the world. She closed her eyes and passed out in relief.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, Mildred woke up in a local inn and didn't care much about how she got there. Instead, she looked in the bathroom mirror. Wondering how her body knew which parts of the mimic-seed's influence to keep.

Mildred studied herself in the mirror, considering how she would explain away her new breast size to everyone at the Academy. Not as extreme as last night. But still noticeable because, well, she didn't have much in the way of breasts in the first place.

Her cut from last night sat on the end table, all in aulrian gold coins. Just as big as she hoped. Mildred already counted the change and idly thought what she would do with her new mini-fortune. Perhaps she would take a bath in it? There was enough coins in that enchanted pouch for her to fill two bathtubs if she wanted to.

A part of her kept quiet. Seth and Conrad, they were on her mind. She wondered if she would see those two agents again.

Then there was a knock at the door. Bridget.

“I came as fast I got your message.” The ex-student said, looking around the inn room.

Did she want somethi- Shit.

All of Mildred's fluffy memories of yesterday slammed into her mind with hellish focus. The doctors. The mentioning of a sting. The government arranged to catch- They tricked her. They fucking tricked her!

“Don't tell me you took out the mimic-seed yourself? Well, don't leave me in suspense. Mantle wants to what happened to their product while you were in transit.”

Whoops.

Lie. Lie now!

“Seth and Conrad-” Mildred blurted out, spineless under the Bridget's withering gaze. “They uh-

“Seth and Conrad who!”


End file.
